Alfred tilted his head back, his skin reveling in the warm sunlight of the Spanish seaside. It'd been a long, hard month in the white house, and he hadn't been outside for more than an hour in far too long. He was eagle-spread in the sand, clad in only his thin boxer-briefs as his discarded clothes lay forgotten a yard or so away. He could feel his strength, the raw power which always coursed through his muscular body, seeping away and delighted in the sensation. For once in so many cold, long years, he felt weak and comfortable at the same time.

"It's his hair, I'm telling you! It's soft and such a wonderful color, like gold silk. You would know a lot about silk, wouldn't you?"

A snappish tone decorates his voice.

"A lot more than you would, aru, and in any case you're wrong! His eyes are the most beautiful, aru, like shined blue jade. Something, aru, I would also know a lot about!"

The bite in his voice is accepted like a slap across the other's face.

"W-well, you barely know the man! I raised him from the time he was shorter than even your knees, I know exactly what he likes and what he hates, what scares him…I know I could discover his weakness eons before you ever could!"

An exhale of exasperation.

"You act as though you've never hurt him, aru! You act as though he has reason to trust you, and that those months together, aru…in the rice paddies, taking care of each other's bleeding wounds… like that never meant anything, aru!"

"Months! Ha! I've got decades under my belt, my dear little Yao!"

The name is spat with contempt, and the owner of said name rises with a jolt, his body pulled stiff as if ready for a battle.

"Those, my English ally," the words from him are also spat, "are words insinuating a challenge, aru."

"Perhaps they are."

Perhaps he'd lain there for hours, perhaps only a few minutes. All Alfred knew was the overwhelming comfort his body had discovered and the extreme will to remain at rest.

Unfortunately, it seemed two of his close companions didn't want to allow that.

He was so warm and so contented that he'd given absolutely zero protest when he'd felt someone moving him. Arthur had lifted him by the back of his shoulders, gently sliding beneath him and manipulating his position so that he was very nearly sitting on his lap. Another body, one much more lithe and lanky, had slid itself across his hips, straddling him and wrapping two slender arms around his neck. This body belonged to Yao, as he was well aware.

"Mmf…you two…what the hell…" his grogginess refused him coherent speech.

"Look at those muscles," he heard Arthur's awed whispers from behind, "at the risk of sounding like a cliché romance novel, he looks like a right and true Adonis."

"You're only looking at his back, aru," a soft hand caressed his abdomen, tracing the etched imprints of his abs, "this here is the real work of art, aru."

"Poppycock. I've got the better view, it's obvious."

"It's obvious that your sun is probably blue, aru."

Alfred felt like a prized kill between two snapping wolves, and it was becoming irksome. His allies were ruining his comfort time in the sun.

"Arthur, Yao, stop being annoying," his voice came out in feeble croaks, he'd lost too much energy to the beach's trickery, "I'm trying to relax and-ah!"

A pair of thin lips attached themselves to one of his nipples, kissing him, kneading his skin gently as a sly fingertip began rubbing the other in circles. Yao was a devious creature when he had the mind to be.

"What will you do now, aru?" he asked between kisses, lapping against the fast-stiffening nub with the tip of his tongue, "everything worth playing with is on my end of him, aru."

Alfred's head was becoming fuzzy as Arthur gave a frustrated grunt from behind him. The Englishman's hands clamped down on his rear suddenly, their firm grip sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout his lower body. He squeezed and began moving his own hips, pushing what felt like a rock against the crease in between his cheeks.

"Don't be so bloody sure of yourself."

Yao gave a soft gasp, and even in his miniature rapture, Alfred knew he could feel the hardness growing just beneath his underwear. He shuddered mentally at what he knew was coming next.

As the elastic slid down Alfred's thighs, a wily grin spread across Yao's usually-sweet face. He pressed his body closer to Alfred's, letting intimate places meet in a strangely delicious friction, not so different from Arthur's actions a bit further south.

Three bodies began to rut in unison, as a Chinese man and an Englishman fighting for dominance of an utterly limp victim from either side of his body.

Alfred sighed, closing his eyes and allowing their actions to become part of the relaxation he'd been hoping for.

"Are the three of them still down at the beach?" Kiku asked his companions, his voice laced with concern, "they're all going to have awful sunburns."

"Maybe they found something interesting, like an old seaside shelter or a cave in the side of a cliff," Antonio offered cheerfully, biting into a tomato and pulling his younger couchmate Lovino a little closer.

"Or maybe they all got eaten by sharks…" the grumpy Italian added.

"Or…or maybe…" the Frenchman's voice was oddly subdued, hushed, almost hesitant in contrast to his usual flamboyancy with his words.

"Maybe what?" Kiku inquired, narrowing his eyes.

"Maybe they're having an enchantingly amazing threesome, illuminated by the sunset."

A moment of silence passed, and then the two Latin countries on the sofa burst out in laughter, accompanied by the much quieter giggles of their Asiatic companion.

"Francis, you say some silly things, but…pff…WOW."

Francis gave a wry smile before setting his binoculars down, scooting them inconspicuously behind a chair.

"Of course, mon bien-aime, I am just being silly."